


Perception

by sulfuric



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Synesthesia, lots of Dumb feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulfuric/pseuds/sulfuric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Castiel's life on earth is filled with brilliant colour, until one day, it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perception

 

_"out of all the colours, every shade, every hue- the only one that ever mattered,_ _my dear,_

 

_was_ **_you._ ** _"_

 

* * *

 

 

When Castiel comes to earth, there is colour. He sees millions of shades and hues swirling into smooth shapes and fluid ribbons, dancing on the edges of his senses. Every sight, every sound, every smell, every touch, every taste- all awash in vibrant colour. Rainbows, unfurling themselves so delicately, so wonderfully, right before his very being. Castiel decides the world is beautiful.

 

He likes to sit at the park. The laughter of children sends golden ribbons fluttering into view and he tastes their words on his tongue. _Sweet,_ he notes, _quite unlike those of my brothers and sisters._ A small girl comes up to Castiel, bright yellow dandelion in hand. She holds it out to him with a smile that's missing more than a few teeth and Castiel feels a brilliant orange starting to grow in his chest. He decides that humans are beautiful.

 

He’s assigned his first mission. A voice so white and pure it's nearly blinding- _Save Dean Winchester from damnation._ Dean Winchester. The name settles on his tongue with a certain weight about it. Castiel embarks at once.

 

Hell is more or less as Castiel expected- except for the screaming. Screams are all that he can hear, all that there is. They are strangled and dripping with desperation- and completely black, absent of any light whatsoever. Black fills his vision, screams so numerous and so overwhelming that they begin to take over his sight entirely. His wings falter. He grabs blindly at his ears in an attempt to stop the screaming- the awful screaming- and realizes that his vessel is no more. Castiel is one scream away from calling out to his Father when he sees it- among the blotches of darkness- a small, single point of pale green light.

 

As he approaches the light it grows and grows, swallowing the darkness completely. He lays a hand upon the soul and green fills Castiel entirely, colour ebbing and flowing through the pores of his being like the tides of the oldest ocean. He begins his ascent and hears his own voice, white, with an infinitesimal tinge of green, resonating clearly through every dimension of existence- _Dean Winchester is saved._

 

Equipped with a new vessel, Castiel formally acquaints himself with the Winchesters. He first meets Dean and Bobby.  The latter not a true Winchester, but Castiel notes that his soul- a deep, metallic blue, made dull and gritty over the course of it's being- shares a deep connection with Dean's own.

 

Dean. When Castiel first encounters Dean’s physical form, all breath is stolen from his vessel's body. He stands taller than Castiel, well-built and strong. His features are sharp and defined and his expression one of general unhappiness. His eyes match the colour of his soul and the faint marks scattered atop his nose remind Castiel fondly of the stars above. He is, in a word, _beautiful._

 

“Who are you?” he demands in a rasp of dark green.

 

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

 

He meets Sam some time later. Sam’s soul is a deep orange, but Castiel can tell something isn’t quite right. Something lurking quietly in the core of his being. It troubles him greatly, Castiel observes. He so desperately wants to be _good_ , that much Castiel can tell.

 

Years pass. Despite his orders from heaven, Castiel feels himself drawn back to the Sam and Dean. He does admit that the bond he shares with the older Winchester is a quite more profound one. And for him and him alone, Castiel rebels.

 

Castiel rebels. He gives up everything that he has ever known, ever loved, ever had faith in- but that, that was all before Dean Winchester. He chooses free will over faith, humanity (one human) over God. _God_ , Castiel realizes, _is white. Blinding and brilliant, pristine and unforgiving. Humanity, it's more than that- it's white and it's black and it's the billions of shades in between- it's so much_ more. Castiel decides, again, this time with every fibre of his being, that humanity is beautiful.

 

A time later, Castiel falls. With the absence of his grace, comes the absence of the colours. He doesn't understand. The world around him remains painted in the rich hues his Father chose long ago, but his senses are silent. The choked cry that escapes him is a deep and strangled thing from the bellows of his soul. And it's colourless.

 

Adjusting takes time. Dean and Sam accommodate the best that they can and for that Castiel is grateful. They worry for him. They know what an integral part of Castiel’s life the colours were, how incredibly inseparable (or, seemingly inseparable) they were from his being, even if they don’t completely understand it themselves. Dean knows he’s green. Or was, anyway. He sees Castiel’s eyes, searching and lost, looking at Dean like there’s something missing- and it’s a terrible feeling. Dean doesn’t know what’s so terrible, feeling like there’s something wrong with himself now or seeing Castiel so damn _sad_. He decides it doesn’t matter which, he just wants it to stop. The next day, he goes out and buys four green shirts.

 

Castiel tries to restore his grace. He tries, in an act of desperation, taking the grace of one of his own brothers. The colour does not return. There is (still) nothing.

 

He can feel the colours fading from his memory. The one colour he swore never to forget, to keep with him for all of time, the colour of the soul he gave up _everything_ for- it slowly begins to fade from his mind, like the sun on an early winter evening, dipping lower and lower below the horizon until it disappears completely.

 

Castiel watches the sunset nearly every night.

 

One night, when the sun begins to hide, Dean hears the broken sobs and disappears with an angry snarl and a incomprehensible mumble.

 

When Dean spends four days in the Bunker's library without sleeping, he finds nothing.

 

When Dean captures Metatron and carves an angel blade into his chest, he gets nothing.

 

When Dean finds Crowley and demands for a solution, he still has nothing.

 

And when Dean storms back into the bunker, weeks later, and finally takes Castiel’s face in his hands and kisses him, there is colour.

 

It all comes rushing back and it nearly sends Castiel flying, only anchored down by Dean’s strong grip. The press of his calloused fingertips on Castiel’s rough stubble is a pale green- one he’d missed so dearly, been so deprived of for so long- and Castiel can’t help but smile into the kiss. He can feel every single nerve in his body alive and pulsing with pure elation and for a brief moment Castiel worries for the state of his vessel, but the thought fades almost immediately after it forms. After an eternity but at the same time all too soon, Dean pulls away, leaving his hands to linger on the sides of Castiel’s face. He lets out half a shaky breath and watches the angel carefully. Dean sees something in his eyes- a subtle change, some shift, one he thought he would never see in Castiel again.

 

“Green?” Dean asks, the word no more than an unbelieving whisper.

 

And in that moment- or perhaps it was all along- Castiel knows. He knows that Dean Winchester is, in all of time and eternity, the most beautiful thing that has ever been.

 

Castiel smiles again. “Green.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So if I've done my job correctly, you most likely have figured out by this point that Cas has many different forms of synesthesia, which is a neurological condition that causes the senses to be linked together. If you have any questions about synesthesia and how it works, feel free to message me on tumblr at bisxualdean!


End file.
